


We've Come A Long Way

by Achilles_Heel



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achilles_Heel/pseuds/Achilles_Heel
Summary: Apollo returns to Olympus. Some things have changed. Some things need to be changed. He intends to make sure the right things are changed. He's learned a lot, and he's lost a lot. That's life, isn't it?(Can be read as a sequel to Man in the Mirror, but works as a stand-alone as well).
Relationships: Apollo & Meg McCaffrey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	1. I Like To Make Myself Believe, That Planet Earth Turns Slowly

I took a deep breath, studying myself in the mirror of the Apollo cabin. My cabin, where all my children slept. It was empty now, and all campers were at the pavilion for breakfast, leaving me to my own devices. I gave my outfit a once over. I was wearing my typical attire, at least before my ever-so-loving father cast me down from the literal heavens. Leather sandals, a golden robe, my massive gilded bow was slung upon my shoulder as if it had never left. Its weight was familiar, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was...right. 

I must confess, none of it felt right. Even my body itself seemed almost unnatural. I mean, to be fair, you would never see abs as glorious or well-defined like this on a mortal, but it felt wrong to me. My hair was blonde again, my skin the model of perfection. That was me, I thought bitterly. Perfect in appearance, but a swirling, churning abyss beneath the shallow flesh and blood of any immortal. I wondered how I would describe my experiences to the other Olympians. 

How can you accurately depict an experience akin to using Google for what is basically eternity than suddenly switching to Internet Explorer because your evil outdated teacher enjoys tormenting you? I mean, you might’ve killed the teacher thousands of years ago, but I thought the golden rule was me, as I’m golden, and if you’re mean to me, then you’re breaking the golden rule. I had never been to a mortal school, and I didn’t want to. Just the thought of dozens of kids exactly like Meg but without the handy golden swords wasn’t comforting. 

Focus, Apollo, I mentally chided myself. I exhaled and refocused on myself in the mirror. “You are gorgeous, inside and out,” I told myself. “You are the sun. You are literally greater than Jupiter.” I flashed myself a thumbs up and turned away, before realizing my pep talk was incomplete. I shut my eyes tightly. “I am the sun,” I reiterated, feeling a little awkward. “People depend on me for warmth and life,” I finished. I smiled. I thought that was a massive improvement in my mantra.

“Well, wasn’t that original.” I opened my eyes and desperately tried to mask my smile with a scowl. I failed. “Meg,” I greeted, “what are you doing here? Even if it isn’t breakfast anymore, you shouldn’t be in my cabin.” Meg pushed herself off from her resting position against the doorway. 

“Your kids’ cabin,” she smirked, taking what I thought was a baggy of seeds out of her pocket before she emptied them into her mouth, leading me to realize it was a thing of strangely colored nerds. 

“Meg,” I chided, placing my hands on my hips before realizing I looked like a stern yet caring parent. I pulled them away from my hips, trying to fit them into a comfortable position before I realized it was a good thing to be a caring parent. I don’t think I could ever be stern, I was just too awesome for that. But a parent, a real one? I could do that. 

I quickly realized Meg was smirking at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence. “You shouldn’t eat candy at 9 am in the morning.” Meg popped a gummy bear into her mouth (seriously, was she in deep in the candy market with the Hermes kids?), swallowing and allowing the smirk to slip off her features. 

“Apollo, I just wanted to say...I’ll miss you. I love all the Demeter kids, but none of them are annoying enough like you are. Nobody screams at quite high a pitch. Nobody willingly embarrasses themselves in front of the entire camp.”

“Thanks,” I deadpanned, though I silently cursed myself for allowing a small waver to slip through my tone. I really needed to reconnect with some of the Muses; my fine arts were off point. Then, Meg did something revolutionary. She hugged me, and as I was 6 feet of perfection, her head barely came to my chest.

I embraced her just as tightly, looking down at her head full of brushed and clean hair. It was weird, the fact that we were clean now, as opposed to meeting each other in a back alley dumpster. Our quest had changed us, but at least we changed together. 

After a little while, Meg let go of me and looked up, filling my view with her hideous rhinestone glasses (as soon as I was done with Olympus, I was taking her shopping—I might even take Piper along with us). “I’ve got to go.” I smiled sadly at the words. I could never stay for long. 

“Zeus is expecting me, and I want to try and repair our relationship.” Meg nodded, and I could’ve sworn that something other than a rhinestone was glistening around her eyes. “Remember Meg, every time you get sunburned, every time you step outside and you’re practically blinded, every time a song comes on that you absolutely despise, that’s me, annoying you. You’re welcome.” 

She slapped me. “Ow, but fair,” I complained. “All right, I’ve got to go now.” Our eyes met, and with that, I walked past her, stopping at the cabin door and turning, an idea forming in my mind as I snapped my fingers together. “One more thing.” I tossed her a small keychain, an electric keyboard. Meg caught it and stared at it, her eyes roving over to me. “What the Hades am I supposed to do with this?” she protested. 

“You said you wanted lessons,” I shrugged. “Just hit one of the keys.” Meg cautiously pressed down on a key, eyes widening as the key chain expanded into a full-size electric keyboard. “A parting gift,” I informed her. “A parting gift?” she looked up at me. My smile wavered. “For now,” I promised. “I look forward to seeing your progress.” 

Meg grinned maliciously and slammed her fist into the keyboard, crushing every godly, musical bone in my body with the horrendous cacophony the action released. “Oh would you look at that, I have to go now. I’ll see you around, Meg.” I grinned and offered a small salute, but as I pivoted and strode at the door, my heart was heavy. How could I leave this life? This real, flesh and blood, good life? For once, I wanted to remember. I didn’t want to forget. 

I took a deep breath and smoothed my golden attire, making sure nobody was around before I erupted with the force of a supernova, traveling to Olympus. My breath caught at the sight of my home (well, excluding the Palace of the Sun). I had always thought it was beautiful, with its marble columns and exquisite gardens, but for some reason, with all the statues, it seemed tacky. Temple Hill was a better monument to the gods (not that they deserved it) than this egotistical monument. 

For once, Olympus was silent except for the sputtering of the fountains. Where was all the life, the pizzaz, the joy? It must have died when I fell from Olympus, I reasoned. I cracked my neck and then my knuckles (I had picked up a few bad habits from Meg, who originally inhabited them from Sherman Yang). I was here to bring the life back. 

I walked the path to the throne room, my steps echoing uncomfortably. The doors, gargantuan creations of silver and gold and beauty, were shut, sealing my entrance to the throne room. Only a god could open them. 

I gripped the handles, feeling the metal hum slightly under my fingers. Huh. That was new. I braced myself, ready to show my family who I was now. It was now or never, I figured. I braced my feet, preparing to yank the doors open. I fixed my sight ahead of me, where Zeus would be sitting. I heaved the door open, flashing my trademark troublemaker’s grin. 

“Hey everybody. Miss me?”


	2. Revelations And Regret In A Modern Hell

My smile melted. My intended suave greeting echoed back to me painfully off the backs of all the thrones, all empty except one. My happiness and every ounce of positive nervousness (was that a thing? I made a note to ask college students as a fact-check) were replaced with dread (which was probably more common among college students). But I digress. 

My blue eyes met my father’s, and in that moment I hated my features. I considered instantly changing my presence, but in front of Zeus, the very definition of a toxic father and arrogance, I vetoed the idea, instead swallowing and sweeping forward. I made sure to walk with confidence, but not with swagger. While most gods wouldn’t understand the difference or care about it, I found it important to know the contrast. 

As humiliating as it was, I knelt in front of Zeus, feeling the rough edges of his aura being broadcasted onto me. I wondered if the crushing weight upon my shoulders was what Atlas felt, but in this moment, I felt neither angry nor regretful. 

There was no hostility in the room, just the small twinge of regret Zeus refused to physically show. The air was awkwardly and painfully charged, like when your supposed relative says that they haven’t seen you since they were a child and they demand a hug. 

I generally wasn’t fond of hugging my immortal relatives, as they all tend to be psychopathic murderers. Except for Leto, my mother. I really needed to visit her. Maybe I would drag Artemis along with me. I supposed it would’ve been one of the few family gatherings with a bunch of supernatural beings that didn’t end with mass slaughter, but I could use some peace. 

“My son.” My thoughts and head snapped back up to Zeus. His voice was gruff, and maybe even a little sad. I could understand that. “My lord,” I began, my tone was somewhat choked and coarse, much to my dismay. “Stop,” the king of the gods commanded. 

I halted, and while I may have stood as still and as flawless as one of my statues, my insides were a tangled mess, like the one time I sprayed silly string in Meg’s hair and she couldn’t get it out for days. I was filled with warmth at the feeling before I realized Zeus was still looking down on me. 

He rose while I was still kneeling, and I vaguely wondered what he meant. Did he want me to kiss his kneecaps? I was pretty sure you were supposed to kiss the ring finger, and I wasn’t excited. I really didn’t want to re-enact Denethor and Pippin with my father, even though Zeus was overly dramatic and conceited, I would give him that. Instead, a hand was placed on my shoulder. 

“Apollo,” Zeus sighed. ‘That is my name’. The phrase almost slipped my lips, but I caught myself. I wondered to myself why he would call me Apollo. I was surprised he even knew my name still, to be completely honest. “Things need to be discussed. Follow me.” 

With that cryptic message (seriously, did he wake up all gloomy and say, ‘you know what? I should be Hades today’. The closest explanation I could think of was that without me, his days were so dull and boring, but it was more of a personal comfort,) he began to glow, and I raised my hand to connect with his arm so I could essentially tag along. 

I sighed as I dissolved into a shower of light, thinking Zeus was going to make me stare in the abyss of Chaos and give me a talking to about how I almost ended the world (false: if that were true, I would plead the fifth). Instead, our talking place (read: interrogation cell) was so much worse. I couldn’t stop myself. I physically recoiled in horror at the sight that surrounded me. 

Overhead lights surrounded in yellow-tinted cellophane. Vinyl maroon booths that my thighs stuck to uncomfortable. Post-apocalyptic artwork hung over chipped and defaced wooden tables. The restaurant was completely empty, except for one mortal who I wasn’t sure if they were dead or not. 

“Why are we in a Denny’s?” I hissed, my voice choked with fear. I looked down and realized I was still in my brilliant garb with my bow and quiver slung over my shoulder. The Mist would be working overtime if I didn’t do something quick. I hastily covered myself with a make-shift menu fort, snapping my fingers and replacing my armour and robes with jeans, loafers, and a Michael Jackson shirt. 

Zeus seemed unfazed, sitting there like a monolithic business model in his hideous navy blue suit (someone needed to tell him that pinstripes were out of fashion, it was a travesty) with a crisp white dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, showing way more of his chest than needed to qualify for a dip in the Lethe. My father snapped his fingers, and the waitress rose from her deathbed behind the counter of the restaurant to tend to us. 

“Your usual, sir?” the woman asked, and Zeus nodded. “And for you?” she turned on me, and in the booth against the wall, I felt like a desperate caged animal. My eyes roved around the menu, but I felt as dyslexic as a demigod. “I’ll—I’ll have the French toast,” I stammered, praying to Hestia, the only (former) Olympian worth praying to, that the menu hadn’t changed since I had cast the very thought of Denny’s into Tartarus. 

The waitress nodded, her gaze dead as she pivoted and sagged back into the kitchen. I wrenched my gaze away from her and looked at Zeus. He was sitting there, perfectly content. The fact that he was relaxed in this atmosphere deeply unsettled me. It was like Python dwelling in his odorous cave, except Zeus was the slimeball lounging in Denny’s, which essentially was an odorous cave if the smell emitting from the kitchen was anything to go by. 

“So,” I started nervously. “Anything new with you?” Zeus snapped, and a glass of orange juice appeared in his hand. “Not really,” he admitted, sipping it. My eye twitched at the residue of orange liquid that was left on his face, and I resisted the urge to wipe it off with a napkin. “I want to talk about you, Apollo.” I braced myself, ready for a slap to the face. “I regret what I did, and I hope you know that I do love you.”

Thank Jason Grace that I hadn’t been drinking anything, because I would’ve spat it out. “Pardon?,” I choked out. It was nice to see that even though I was a god again, I had lost none of my poetic charms. Zeus raised an eyebrow. “You heard me. You’re my son. I watched you enter this world, all golden and brilliant. As soon as you joined the Olympian council, there were no questions as to your legitimacy as a god. You had my aspects, good and bad.”

I stared as my father accepted two plates from the waitress. I wondered why the food was done so fast, but hey, hell was quick in punishment, I reasoned. Zeus set my French toast in front of me, and my stomach flipped as I looked from my plate to his. Deviled eggs. How fitting, I thought with a bitter smear of sarcasm in my head. 

“As much as I regret making you mortal, I was glad to see that the bitter vine yielded some fruit.” Again with the poetry and flair for drama. Zeus set his fork down and looked me square in the eye. “You became better. So much better. I wish I could do that, but I’m afraid I’m too set in my ways,” my father confessed. 

I snorted. Zeus’s bushy eyebrows drew together as if attracted by a magnet. “Did I say something funny?” he asked brusquely “You did, actually,” I confessed. I was done being scared of my father. “It’s funny for the reason that you can change. I did. And honestly, it was glorious. The feeling of being mortal,” I sighed wistfully. “There are regret and pain and everything horrible, but at least you’re really living, you know? It’s not some twisted half-life.”

Zeus nodded, and his eyes assumed a faraway look. “I haven’t had regret in a very long time. I hope you realize that even though you were mortal, I would never have allowed for you to die. You’re my son. Unfortunately, the thought did not strike me until too late.” I tensed. Was he about to drop some bombshell on me? Had someone died while I was gone? Or something worse? Had Justin Beiber released a new album?

“I didn’t think about Jason,” Zeus whispered. “My son,” his voice choked, and he looked at me. There were actual tears in his eyes, and I would’ve offered him a scratchy napkin if not for the matter at hand. “He was a hero, remember?” I nodded. “A hero,” I reiterated. “Nothing less.” My father rose abruptly. “Nothing less,” Zeus said softly, before striding out of the restaurant. 

I bolted out of the seat, ignoring the burning on the back of my thighs as the hideous booths ripped at them. I dashed out of the door, looking around desperately for my father. He had disappeared. I racked my brain, thinking where he would’ve gone. A stone settled in the pit of my stomach and I quickly traveled to the location where Zeus would most likely be. I opened my eyes, looking down from the mountain top. 

“Mount Orthrys. It’s where I originally defeated Kronos. My father.” I glanced at my father, who was staring down at the earth from the black slab of the rock where we were standing. “He was a tyrant,” I assured him, wondering why I was doing so. Zeus laughed bitterly. “Am I not also? I might not have consumed my children, Jason, but he died by hand nonetheless. I can’t have children. It always ends poorly, and Jason was even favored by Hera.”

“He died a hero’s death. He was a Roman, your son. I’m sure he would do it all over again,” I tried. “That’s the problem!” Zeus spat. “He was too noble, too heroic! Why couldn’t he have acted like me for once?” my father cried, and thunder boomed in the distance. Against all better judgment, I stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can never be like Jason was. And I know you can’t show emotion in public, or have another child so soon. You can’t expect to replace Jason, you know.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. With luck, I wouldn’t be thrown from the mountain. “But if you want, I can be your son and not your subject. I can just be Apollo,” I offered. It was deadly quiet, and Zeus slowly turned to me. “I’d like that,” he smiled hesitantly. 

At that moment, I felt the closest I ever had to both god and man. I liked the duality; it was refreshing. We looked out over Greece in silence, but not in loneliness. If I could change, if Zeus could change, we all could. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I've butchered all hopes of good material for this fic. I have no idea what the second half of it was, so if you know, please tell me below.


	3. Sun and Moon

I should’ve known it was a bad idea to go for a stroll in the Arctic tundra. Especially when it was in the hunting vicinity of over 50 girls that had a strong distaste for me. I sighed, shielding my face from the biting wind and frozen water droplets that pelted my face. 

I looked around. White everywhere. In this barren, pale landscape, I was literally radiant in my golden snow parka and pants. I suppose that I didn’t need to wear the winter apparel as the temperature wouldn’t affect me too badly, but sue me, I liked to be cozy. 

As I trudged down the snowy slope, my mind refocused too what had been my ambrosia for thought in the past few days. Namely, my conversation with Zeus. It had been...enlightening. For both parties, I mused. I sincerely hoped that this wasn’t the weird thing mortals did around, what was it? Newt yeets? Ah. New Year’s. 

Yes, the fad where they decided to change but as soon as they went back to their pathetic jobs they abandoned it, much like my relationship with disco once the 70s ended (though I will admit, John Travolta was stunningly talented for a mortal). 

I barely noticed the bird coming at my face until the last moment. I dove to the side, making my entire upper body into a sun-god flavored snowcone. I wiped as much snow as I could from my face, letting my furnace of a body melt the rest. I glared up at the bird, uncomfortable all over. 

Wait. Why was the bird even here? I inspected it closer, swearing in old English (Shakespeare would’ve made even Ares proud if Ares could read. I wasn’t sure about that, to be honest)as I recognized it. It was a hawk buzzard, and to those who have had the pleasure to avoid this bird (I envy you), it was also one of my sister’s symbols. 

“What do you want?” I complained. The bird made a hideous cackling noise akin to when Meg found a surplus of candy, regardless of if it was hers or not. I shuddered. As the buzzard finished its hellish song, it flew off, coming to rest at the top of the hill that I had just fallen down. My eyes were drawn to three figures in grey and white, their faces all obscured by coverings. 

The buzzard rested on the shoulder of the figure in the center in true Mulan-style, who uncovered their face. “Apollo,” Artemis greeted, letting her classic auburn ponytail fall clear of her parka hood. “I would’ve thought that your ascension to godhood would have made you smarter than to trek around this frozen wasteland, looking for a group of maidens.”

I was about to mouth my sister off with some classy retort about flirting with the Hunters, but I realized that that wasn’t who I was anymore. “I wasn’t looking for anyone other than you, dear sister. I must say, I’ve missed you,” I grinned, but there was a sincerity in it. I truly did miss her. I mean, sure, she saved me from certain death back in New Rome, but that was just the usual family reunion. 

I hadn’t spent time with Artemis, quality time, for dozens of years. I hoped to fix that. I wanted to fix that relationship with all my family. I wanted to be the son Percy was to Sally. The brother Jason was to Thalia. The father Tristan was to Piper. I wanted to be the most human god possible, and if that meant trial and error, so be it. 

My eyes flicked back to Artemis and the two young women next to her. The one on the right possessed shockingly blue eyes and a silver circlet, marking her as Thalia Grace. I flashed her a peace sign, which she returned. The girl on the left revealed herself to be none other than my former-crush-turned-friend Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano. She looked happier than I had ever seen her; the tense and guarded nature was gone from her shoulders. She smiled a genuine, warm smile. 

It made me unbelievably ecstatic to see her happy, not to mention seeing her with no other expectations than friendship. Reyna deserved an eternity of enjoyment and rest, I figured. I began to trudge back up the hill, making eye contact with Artemis once more. She rolled her eyes, and I thought to myself how nice it was that we were showing physical affection again (we had somewhat grown apart during the Middle Ages, but hey, I take one nap, the Black Plague happens, and it’s  _ my fault?  _ The audacity). 

After I tripped into a snowdrift for the third time, I cursed in Italian (Will had picked them up from Nico and he passed them on to me, I fact which I greatly appreciated) and pulled a page from Jason Grace’s book, lifting off into the air and flying toward the trio of Hunters. I touched down a few feet from Artemis, opening my arms for a hug. She sighed and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me casually, though I could definitely feel that her grip tightened significantly after a few seconds. 

Within moments, I felt a sharp object poking at the back of my neck, and I realized it was probably a knife. “If you  _ ever  _ become mortal and/or almost die again, I will sneak into the Palace of the Sun and slit your throat while you sleep,” Artemis threatened. I laughed good-naturedly. “I don’t doubt it for a second,” I quipped back. 

Artemis pulled me away and gave me a once over. “You look different,” she stated. “Thanks.” I turned my attention away from my sister and onto my half-sister. “Thalia. You look well,” I said amiably. Thalia nodded and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Apollo. I don’t have that much personal experience with you, but Jay spoke highly of you.”

It took me a second to realize she was talking about Jason, and the guilt came upon me in waves. “Jason could speak highly of anything,” I tried to play it off to the best of my ability. “He really could,” Thalia snorted, and I gave her a small smile before shifting my focus to Reyna. The Roman opened her arms wide, and I glanced over to Artemis with a raised eyebrow, silently asking for permission. 

“Whatever,” my sister sighed. “We’ll see you two at camp. Thalia, why don’t we give these two a moment alone.” With that, Artemis turned, Thalia following in her wake. Reyna stole my attention once more as she embraced me gently. “It’s good to see you,” she breathed out. “The feeling is mutual,” I assured her. “How are you enjoying this life?”

Reyna pulled back. “I’m enjoying it a lot. I can do what I love. Make this world a safer place for other demigods, and of course, you know, former gods,” she teased, poking me in the ribs. “Rude,” I complained, though the corners of my mouth tugged upwards. She motioned for me to walk with her back to what I presumed to be their makeshift camp. 

We talked for the entirety of the journey, as short as it was. It was so awkward to think about how I once had a crush on her, she felt like my sister now. I cleared my throat as we reached the threshold where all the tents lay, and I quickly pegged the largest one as Artemis’s. “I wanted to say, Reyna, I’m sorry about hitting on you. It was childish and horrible. I’ve changed, you know.”

“I can tell,” she said softly. “And I know. When you were Apollo before, you were insufferable. When you were Lester, it was the epitome of second-hand embarrassment—like when Leo tries to do something cool but fails. But now? It’s like the best qualities of Lester and Apollo merged. You’re a new man.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it,” I confessed. “Though I think Artemis is expecting me.” Reyna nodded and threw some snow at me before running away, jumping into Thalia’s arms as a refuge from my retaliation. I shook my head before stepping into my sister’s tent, ducking my head (one of the lesser perks of being tall again)under the crossbeam. Artemis had stripped off her parka, sitting cross-legged on a fur rug in leggings and a shirt. 

“Hey there, Arty,” I murmured. She rolled her eyes. “Must you call me that?” she insisted. “Of course,” I replied. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. I missed you. Even before I was human, we never really talked.” I sat down in front of her, towering over her as she was in the form of a 12-year-old girl and me around a 17-year-old boy. 

“And I you.” My sister snapped her fingers and two cups appeared in her hand. She handed one to me and kept the other for herself, and I looked into mine excitedly. “No way,” I giggled. She nodded enthusiastically. “I know, right? I got the recipe from mom after millennia of pestering her.” 

We sniggered. “Mom’s famous cinnamon chocolate milkshakes,” I said in awe before taking a deep sip, Artemis doing the same. I laid my head in her lap, softly smiling as her nimble fingers began working my longest hairs (which weren’t that long) into a tiny braid, Legolas-style. I sighed contentedly, happy with life. This was nice. 

Once she was done, I sat up, raising my glass to the air. “To new beginnings,” I declared. Artemis followed suit. “And to family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought, and if you're excited about the next chapter.   
> -Ficarus (my Tumblr nickname, actual URL is evolving-into-icarus if anybody wants to send me an idea or prompt)


	4. To Be The Polestar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part, and it’s really bad. Here’s the song to accompany it because it wasn’t horrific enough already. Please let me know what you think, and I have several new ideas after this that I’ve given teasers for   
> https://youtu.be/Ojt0eiFX1K4 @  
> ^^I highly suggest listening to this

“What does it mean to be human?” I looked around the campfire, observing the reflection of the flames flickering on the campers’ faces. They had come to Camp Half-Blood so they wouldn’t suffer at the hands of monsters—but rather under my nightly TED talks around the campfire. Being director of camp had its perks—the poor kids weren’t allowed to leave until I finished. 

Meg piped up from the back in true Meg-fashion. “It means to smell like you did,” she oh-so-helpfully pointed out, earning a few snickers from her violent posse of 12-year-olds that she had essentially drafted into service in lieu of me. I tried to mask my grin, but my smile (why did it have to be so radiant and attractive?!) peeked out from my poorly-formed frown. “Well, yes, one does tend to smell,” I admitted. “But what else?”

My eyes scanned the area. “It means to look for something. Something perfect. A perfect life, to belong to something greater than yourself. Being human means to want more. We’re never satisfied, I’ve found.” I smiled softly, reminiscing about my quest for godhood once more. “It means to be able to change the world and make it a better place.”

The words hung in the air, but they were anything but a pall. I circled the fire, raising my hand and letting images flicker in the heat of the flames. My fall from Olympus. Finding Meg. Coming to Camp-Half-Blood. All my journeys, my horrible traumas suffered as a man, a mortal; enduring them with Meg. Reuniting with Leo and Calypso and everyone else. Defeating Python and the emperors. Jason Grace. 

“Moving on.” I paused, making sure the reality of everything had sunk into the atmosphere on the beach of Long Island Sound, the waves gently crashing in the background. “To be god…” I struggled for a few minutes before clearing my throat. “To be god is to play a game of chess without all of the pieces, but you think you have all them. You are in control, but of what? To be god,” I reiterated, “is said to be the supreme or ultimate reality.” 

I glanced around, and though my face was smiling, my eyes were somewhat hard. “Nothing could be farther from the truth. ‘Reality’ for a god is as much of a myth as a god themself. It simply doesn’t exist for you. But it did for me. And it does for you.” I set my hands in the pockets of my khaki shorts (Chiron said I couldn’t wear literal golden attire, which was kind of mean since Lit said if I ever wanted some he would give me a discount), and glanced at Meg. She gave me an encouraging nod.

“Demigods have life the hardest. This is a well-known fact. But it’s the most beautiful life you’ll ever see. You’re under so much pressure; you’ll burn if the Fates declare it. So does coal. My point is, my dear fashionably-challenged campers, is that you have the highest chance to turn into a diamond.”

I was somewhat ashamed of the cliche line, but hey, if I was the god of poetry I was allowed to use what I wanted without making verbal citations (side note: cast all grade school English teachers into Tartarus). I hummed mentally, feeling another metaphor coming on. I clapped my hands together. 

“The aurora and the polestar. Two magnificent phenomena in the sky,” I started, relishing in the slightly confused (was that a hint of apprehension I saw on Will and Nico’s faces?) expressions of the demigods. “The aurora is spell-binding. It captivates you, and you’ll find yourself looking at it until it’s gone and the world’s burned down. A quick piece of godly advice for you all: don’t be or focus on the aurora. I don’t mind if you don’t want to be the polestar. In fact,” I paused. “I encourage it.”

“The polestar is constant. It never wavers, and it looks over you like a sentinel, working to guide you home. That’s what I want you to be to each other. A friend. A lover. Brave, courageous, and strong.”

I made contact with Meg, knowing she would understand where I was about to go, both in terms of my speech and literally. “You are the best creation. The power and strength of an immortal. The heart, the passion, the pure  _ soul  _ of a mortal. Don’t squander yourself and your gifts, my dear children.”

“Sacrifice, if need be. You guys always insist on being the heroes, don’t you?” I chuckled, shaking my head and earning a few laughs in response from the campers. Chiron leaned on his bow, fixing his eyes on me. For years, he had seen the greatest people die in vain or ruin, desperately trying to accomplish something or save something. No longer, I decided. 

“You will thrive. Be as constant as the sun and the stars and this earth, and everything in between. Be demigods.” I gave them a final, soft smile. For once, the words I was about to say felt right in my mouth. “As you have had two camp directors that have strong roots in Greek drama, I must say: the age of Greek tragedies is over. Fight for who you are... For what’s behind you and not ahead of you. Make it an epic. Or a ballad, fighting for who you love. Either way, be yourselves. Be heroes.”

The campfire was silent, and I saw some of the older campers bob their heads up and down, tears glistening in their eyes. I nodded at Nico, signaling I was done. He raised his hand silently, allowing me to slip into the shadows and leave this plain. 

I shut my eyes tightly, counting to three in Greek before opened them so I wouldn’t throw up. I really don’t think Hades would appreciate me desecrating Elysium right after he remodeled it. I cracked them open, taking in the familiar sight of strong and healthy trees along the streets. There were a bunch of people crowded around two others on stage, they were teen boys. Both looked shockingly like me, and I realized with somewhat of a jab to the heart that they were my sons, Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew. They smiled at me as I passed, like familiar faces greeting you after a long time away.

I walked through an outdoor cafe, seeing two girls dressed in grey and white camo look up at me, both sporting black hair and kind yet determined eyes. I bowed my head respectfully as I passed, and glanced back in surprise. I had started somewhat of a procession: my sons were following me, along with Zoe Nightshade and Bianca di Angelo; dozens of others in tow. Hyacinthus, Koronis, Daphne, Bobby, Don the Faun, more Hunters and demigods joining the massive traveling throng. 

I choked up somewhat, continuing my journey through the streets of paradise. It touched me that they were all here. I was just looking for one more person though. 

My eyes found him at last. A boy of about 16 sat under the shade of a tree, a Laurel tree on top of that. The tree of victory. How fitting, taking into account the young man that was garbed in the white tunic of a Pontifex of Rome, though an orange shirt was peeking out from underneath. 

“Apollo,” Jason Grace, my ally, friend, and brother greeted. He rose and opened his arms, embracing me. “I thought you couldn’t possibly take any longer,” he chuckled into my ear. 

I pulled back, taking a seat as Jason followed suit. “I missed you, man. It’s nice down here, but it’s also kind of lonely, right?” I nodded, summoning some nectar—now that Jason was dead he could drink it freely. He accepted the glass with a murmured thanks, pressing its rim to his lips. We sat there in silence for a while, just relaxing with no threat of homicidal Romans looming in the distance. 

“I might try for rebirth, but who knows? We can talk about that later though, I wanted to ask you. How did everything go? How are you coping with that experience, along with Meg?” His eyes assumed a faraway look. “How is Piper doing?” he asked quietly. 

I thought back, trying to craft the perfect answer for him. I chose my next words carefully. I looked at Jason, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve come a long way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think. I hate writing from the first person, but I did it because it's Apollo. I also never really write Apollo centric works, so please tell me if this is passing for Apollo.


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